I open my menu. “Since you’re the big rock star, does this mean we’re getting lobster tonight?”
Finn chuckles. “It means we’re getting anything you want.”
“Good.” I smile at him. “Lobster it is. And champagne.”
“’As you wish.’” He quotes from one of my favorite movies, The Princess Bride, and I laugh. “But I seem to remember you being a lightweight when it comes to your booze.”
“Hey!” I protest. “Since when?”
“Since you had two beers and passed out in my backseat on the way back from that gig in Wilmington,” Finn teases.
“First of all, I didn’t pass out, I fell asleep,” I say, pointing a breadstick at him.
“Same difference.”
“Uh huh. And second, did you ever think that maybe that was my way of getting you back there, too?” I arch an eyebrow, and Finn slowly whistles.
“There I was, thinking you were so sweet and innocent, when all along, you were the one who led me astray.”
“I tried,” I grin. “But let’s face it, you didn’t need much leading.”
“No,” he says slowly, a smile spreading across his face and lighting up the entire room. “Not when it came to you.”
There’s a pause, electricity ricocheting between us until the waiter arrives to talk us through the specials.
I sip my water fast, trying to cool down.
Easy girl. His backseat is only a few paces away, and part of me wants to skip this whole meal and drag him back there right now.
“Do you know what you want?” I snap my head up. Finn smiles. “Your order,” he explains.
“Oh. Right. Yes.”
I quickly tell the waiter, and hand my menu back. But food is the last thing on my mind. With the romantic setting and the lights glittering off the ocean, it’s hard not to get swept up and feel like we’re on a real date. It’s been forever since a guy took me out like this. Not the fancy restaurant, but any kind of dinner, just the two of us.
“So, Eva Carmichael, back in Oak Harbor.” Finn takes a sip of champagne, his eyes meeting mine over the candlelight. “That’s a story I’d like to hear.”
I shrug, careful now. “No story. It turned out the big wide world was a little too big for me. I tried drama school in New York, but it didn’t work out. And then Lottie, with Kit…” I trail off, wondering what he thinks of me. He went out and achieved his dreams, traveled all over the place. I must seem so small-town to him, still walking the same streets I did as a kid.
“No plans to get back out there?” he asks, studying me. “You always wanted to try living in different cities. You had that list.”
“What list?” I ask, confused.
“In the back of your notebook,” Finn reminds me. “Places you wanted to go. Chicago, London, even Italy.”
I remember it now, those idle hours in school that I’d pass daydreaming of somewhere more exotic. I sigh. “That was just a game. Things change.”
Finn’s smile slips. “So you’re happy here?”
“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” I curl my fingers around my glass, feeling oddly defensive. “It’s a great town, and it’s important I’m here for Lottie. It’s been really tough on her,” I add. “She takes it all in stride, never complains – well, almost never. But a toddler isn’t easy.”
“I can imagine.”
Thankfully, Finn doesn’t press anymore. Our appetizers arrive, and I pick at my crab-cake. “What about you?” I ask. “How did you wind up on the front cover of Rolling Stone magazine? I mean I always knew you had talent, but you never said you had ambitions like that.”
“I didn’t have ambition at all,” Finn answers wryly. “I was just focused on getting the hell away from here.”
His words cut through me. My heart clenches. “I got that hint,” I reply, my voice cool.
He winces. “I didn’t mean—”
“No, go on. After you left,” I prompt him again, pushing my old betrayal aside. “What happened next?”
He sighs, then leans back in his chair. “I moved around, worked here and there,” he says slowly, and I can tell he’s glossing over something. “Then one night, I picked up my guitar again, and it all came together. After that, I played every chance I got. Until one night in Austin, this guy comes and finds me after the show. Says he’s a manager, that he thinks I’ve got what it takes.” Finn’s expression lifts at the memory. “My buddy, Kyle,” he explains. “He’s a piece of work. Just think of the ultimate Hollywood hustler, and that’s him, right there. He walked in that dive bar wearing three hundred dollar pants, and shoes so shiny you could see your own reflection. I laughed in his face, thought he was crazy.”